Chapter Six Brigit

CHAPTER SIX: brIGIT

My hands shake as I swipe away from the news to access the Kindle app. I mentally grab hold of the fear and shove it into a box before locking it up. I can't expose Colt to my despair. He's much too young. My job as his mother is to make sure he's happy, not stressed about his mother going to prison. My little guy comes flying out of the bedroom in his Spiderman pajamas and hops on the bed. His exuberance pulls a chuckle out of me as he scrambles to get under the covers.

"I'm ready!" he announces loudly, even though I'm already joining him on the bed.

"What are you ready for?" I ask.

"Dinosaurs!" He announces as we dive back into the story of Jack and Annie as they try to escape the past and find their way home in Dinosaurs Before Dark. We're slogging our way through the book since Colt wants to read it to me instead of the other way around. Not that I'm complaining. Watching him get enjoyment out of reading gives me joy. We're coming up on chapter seven when his eyes droop and his words slur. Marking our place, I slide the iPad out of his hands. Placing a kiss on his forehead, I tuck him in. My hand hovers over the light switch as I watch my little boy sleep. He's my entire world, and the thought of not watching him grow up breaks my heart. With a soft sob, I flick off the light.

Dropping onto the couch, I look out at the bright lights of the Vegas Strip. The curved window gives me a breathtaking view that is uniquely Vegas. I'm holding the iPad against my chest. I don't know whether to read more news reports about Mike's death or just ignore it for the night. Ignoring it seems like the best plan for my sanity, but I can't hide from the reality. If the police track me down, they'll put Colt in the system. The thought of my baby in the hands of someone I don't know terrifies me. I need Wildcard, but there is a real possibility he's dead. I don't realize I'm crying until the tears drop on my arm.

Slamming the iPad down on the couch, I march to the bathroom and rip out several tissues from the box. I wipe my tears as I again fight to control my emotions. I can't keep breaking down. Not now. I need to focus on a solution instead of wallowing in despair. Colt needs me to be strong. I need to protect him in case the worst happens. He needs his father, and if not his father, then who? My father? The last I saw my dad was when the police handcuffed him and led him away. He refused to see me when he was in jail. Instead, he sent Wildcard to take me out of Vegas. The letters I sent to him in prison came back unopened. He completely cut me out of his life. I know my dad loves me, even though he rejected me. I'm not so stupid that I don't know why he did it. He didn't want me to see him in prison. He'd rather I remember him as my father and not a convicted felon. What he doesn't realize is that I will never see him as anything but the father I love with all my heart. I need to find out if he's still in prison or if they released him. He'd be the best choice to care for Colt if I went to prison.

Maybe the cabbie bringing me here was fortuitous. According to him, the Demon Dawgs own the hotel. Surely I can find someone who will help me contact the club President. The hotel created a way to help women in need of protection. That's not something Squiggy would ever have done. He was the person women needed protection from. What was the name of the President? Puma. I remember that, but his real name? Someone mentioned it. The cabbie? I pull out the card he gave me and dial the number.

"This is Jason. How can I help you?" I feel a sense of relief hearing a familiar voice.

"Jason. This is Brigit. We met today. You took me to the Demon Dawgs clubhouse and then to 1%?"

"Of course, Brigit. Is everything okay?" I'm grateful for the genuine concern in his voice.

"It is. I just had a question. You mentioned the name of the President of the Demon Dawgs, but I forgot."

"Oh, okay, yeah, no problem. His name is Maklin Brooks."

"Right, now I remember you saying that. Thank you." Ending the call, I fire up the iPad again and search for Maklin Brooks. The images that I see are all of him with a basketball in his massive hands. The man is stunningly handsome with an incredible body. Ignoring the stats of his career, I search for more recent information.

I find an article about a charity event at 1%. He's wearing a tuxedo that barely contains his massive form. He's bulked up since his playing days, but I'm certain the bulk is muscle rather than fat. Standing next to him is a gorgeous woman with long black hair and tanned skin. He's looking down into her upturned face. The love bouncing between them is undeniable.

Under the photo is a caption. Maklin Brooks with the event organizer, Alisa Canto.

Alisa. Didn't Jason and the woman at the reception desk mention the name Alisa? Guest of Alisa's. That's what Jason said. His words seemed to flip a switch with Becky. She knew immediately that I required protection. Why? Hotels often offer a protective service to women needing to escape an abusive relationship or stalkers. Is that what Guest of Alisa's means? The thought that he loved his woman so much that he created a program dedicated to helping women in need makes me feel more confident that he'll help me, too.

I feel better knowing I have a plan. First thing tomorrow morning, I'll call the front desk and ask if they can put me in contact with Puma or someone from the club. Maybe I can find out if Wildcard survived the shooting. I feel the tears start again, and this time I don't stop them. I spent the last six years wishing he'd come back into my life. Seeing him shot feels unreal. As if my worst nightmare has come to life. Taking the wine out of the refrigerator, I pour myself another glass. I can't get drunk, but maybe the alcohol will numb some of the pain. Taking the bottle with me, I head for my bedroom. A hot bath will help me sleep.

Turning on the tap, I'm happy to find a bottle of luxurious bubble bath in the basket of items supplied by the hotel. Emptying the tiny bubble, I breathe in the relaxing scent of lavender. Yes, this is exactly what I need. Stripping off my clothes, I make sure my glass and the bottle of wine are near enough to reach. Sliding into the water, I let out a long sigh as my muscles react to the hot water. I rarely indulge in baths, but each time I have, I have to wonder why I don't do it more often. This is heaven. I left the door to the bathroom and the bedroom open in case Colt needs me. He's usually a heavy sleeper, but I don't know if the chaotic dash across the country or sleeping in a different bed will cause him problems.

After finishing my glass of wine, I refresh the water before pouring the rest of the bottle into my glass. I sip the wine and let myself think about Wildcard and the night we conceived Colt. He was my first, the man who took virginity. It was a hard-fought battle that I finally won.

He resisted me for the entire trip, even though I threw myself at him every night. Wrapped around his hard body, combined with the bike's vibrations, had me ready to combust. Every time we stopped for the night, I tried to seduce him, with no luck. I tried everything my inexperienced eighteen-year-old mind could come up with, but he held firm. Until the night before he returned to Vegas. After he helped me setup my bed in my new home, he told me he was leaving the next day. That was the first time I cried. The thought of being alone broke me. My tears broke down Wildcard's defenses.

He wrapped his arms around me and begged me to stop crying. The tender way he held me and the whispered assurances I'd be okay eventually stopped the tears. When I raised my eyes to his, he must have seen the naked plea in mine. He groaned and gave in. The taste of his kiss ignited a fire in me I would not let him deny. I needed him. Needed to feel connected to him before he cast me adrift on my own. He answered my need with a night that I still remember. A night that I replay often when I need the release. Like right now.

Sliding my fingers between my folds, I flick my clit as I pinch my nipple with my free hand. I remember his mouth sucking on both as sparks shoot to my core. He showed me how to touch myself. I remember his fingers sliding over the bundle of nerves that shot me through my first orgasm. I barely remember the pain when he first penetrated, but I'll never forget the pleasure when his fat cock slid in and out of my passage. Even though I wanted him bare, he took care of me by wearing a condom. I giggle when I remember the look of horror on his face when the condom broke.

A sound outside my door draws me back into the present. Slipping further under what remains of the bubbles. I wait for Colt to find me. However, it isn't Colt that steps through the door. No, my visitor is tall, dark, and dangerous.